Dark Side of the Moon
by A.G. Hart
Summary: Content warning at beginning of first chapter. Please make note! Real sequel to Time After Time. Dean hasn't forgotten about Max and she hasn't forgotten about him. What will happen when Michael takes over? Seriously dark. Apologies that the first chapter is so long. Reviews and constructive criticism welcomed and requested. Last chapter up!
1. Somebody to Love

Warning: This is definitely an MA fic. This first chapter/prologue is kinda happy and a little smutty, but this story is going to some dark places. There will be rape, incest, suicidal ideation and possibly character death. And a language warning. Please be cautious.

Author's note: This chapter happens before the end of Season 13. The rest of the chapters are after Season 13 ends.

Dean Winchester sat in his Impala, pondering if he should actually get out, go knock on her door. Mom was safe. Sam was safe. Jack was safe. Lucifer was taken care of. They were going to find a way to beat Michael. Everything else was coming up Aces, why not give this a chance?

He'd only spent a night with Max, but he hadn't stopped thinking about her. Her eyes. Her smile. The shyness. The fierceness when challenged. And the dreams, oh the dreams he'd been having about her of all the things they didn't do that night, but he would like to very much. But they were so much more than just sex dreams. They felt more real than any dream he'd had before. They made him feel that he was somehow…connected…to her. Maybe it was her unauthorized access into his brain…

Dean didn't know why he was hesitant. It's not like he was the shy type. It was more like he didn't want to press his luck. Things didn't tend to go his way for long. And he didn't want to drag her into any of the shit that may or may not be headed his way.

Dean let out a defeated sigh. The only real relationship he had ended with a mind wipe. He just didn't see the domestic life in his future. Shit, Dean! He chastised himself. You're not going to ask her to marry you, just see if she'll even let you in the damn door. And if you're lucky, get laid.

Dean put the key back in the ignition and started it back up. He definitely wasn't looking for marriage, but she was definitely not just another fuck either. As the engine roared to life, the radio came back on as well. The opening strains of "Somebody to Love" filled the Impala. Dean took it as a sign and smiled.

"Thanks, Freddie," he said to the radio, as he killed the engine and opened the door.

**************************************

The knock on the door barely registered in Max's sleepy mind. She fought waking up, not wanting to leave her dream about Dean Winchester. She relished each one she'd had since the night she met him. They were wild, x-rated, sensual and so realistic. She hadn't had this much desire—or lust—for anyone, ever.

The knocking got louder and roused her enough for her to get up and stumble to the door. She opened it to find Dean standing on the other side.

"Dean, how'd you get your pants on so quick?" she asked, thinking she was still dreaming.

A devilish grin crossed his lips. "Magic," he replied, joking. He took it as another good sign that she had been thinking about him with his pants off.

Her eyes opened wide hearing his voice. She wasn't dreaming. She quickly slammed the door on Dean. She turned her back to the door and covered her face with her hands as it flushed bright red. "Oh god," she mumbled to herself.

"I can take my pants off if it's a condition of entry," he told her through the door.

Her face flushed again, but this time it was from the thought of him here, for real, and no pants. She hated how awkward she was. You'd think after nearly 1600 years she'd be a little more smooth, but that was never Max.

A second thought flashed through her mind at the word pants—she wasn't wearing any. She was wearing a long t-shirt that she slept in, that thankfully covered all the important bits, but still!

Max took a deep breath to steady herself. She quietly said a few words and then swept her hands down her body. As she did so, her t-shirt became a baby blue empire-waisted tunic that was sleeveless and just covered her butt. Underneath she had on Capri-length black leggings. She decided that no shoes were necessary since she was in her own apartment. She took another deep breath and then opened the door again.

"Dean, hi!" she tried not to sound nervous, even though she was, mostly because she got caught having naughty thoughts. She stood in the doorway, not letting him in.

"So, do I need to take off my pants before you'll let me come in?" he chided her again.

Her cheeks flushed once more. "No, definitely not!" she replied, a little too enthusiastically. "Come in, come in," she stepped out of the way so he could cross the threshold.

He loved it when she blushed. He looked around as he entered to find the apartment still set up the same as before, just with less boxes and more art on the walls. All his wards and sigils were long gone. "The place looks nice," he told her as he made his way to the cupboard with the glasses. He set the bottle of whiskey on the counter and took out two glasses like he owned the place.

"Drink?" he offered, showing her the bottle of Tennessee Whiskey he'd brought with him.

She nodded and walked over to the counter, standing next to Dean with her back against the counter.

"How have you been?" he asked her, taking a sip of whiskey.

She took a sip of hers as well, trying to figure out how to answer his question. Lonely. Bored. Wanton. Terrified she'd never see him again. Sifting through his thoughts. "Not bad," she decided on. "You?"

"Pretty good, actually," he replied. "Rescued Mom and Jack."

She smiled, genuinely happy for him. "That's amazing! I'm very glad to hear."

They both took another sip of whiskey as an awkward silence lingered between them. Dean wasn't sure how he wanted to approach this and Max didn't want to embarrass herself further.

"So, um, what are you doing here?" Max finally asked.

Dean downed the rest of his drink, flashes of his dreams going through his mind. "I've been thinking about you," he told her honestly.

She smiled shyly. "I've been thinking about you, too."

"With or without pants?" he couldn't help himself.

"Hey! There's a perfectly good reason why I was dreaming of you with no pants on," she got out with a straight face.

"Oh?" Dean was curious.

She took a sip from her glass and kind of hid her mouth behind it so he wouldn't see her smile. "And I'll let you know as soon as I think of one."

Dean let out a laugh, which caused Max to giggle a little too. The stood there, smiling at each other for a moment.

"Honestly, I—" she started, but was cut off by Dean grabbing her in his arms and kissing her. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and returned his kisses.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in close. The bulge in his jeans rubbed against her through the thin material of her leggings. But even this close wasn't enough for her. She wanted all of him with nothing between them, not even clothes.

She slid off of the counter and out of his arms. Dean started to protest. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards the bed. She stood them facing each other next to the bed.

She started to unbutton his shirt. He moved to help her but she slapped his hands away. "Mine," she told him playfully.

He lifted his hands in surrender and just watched her. He found the movement of her hands mesmerizing. It started an anticipation of what they would feel like when they reached his skin.

She pulled the shirt off his shoulders after the last button was undone and then off his arms. "Damn t-shirt!" she cursed as she struggled with removing it as well. This time he did help with the removal.

She stood for a moment marveling at his chest and arms; the history written upon them in scars. She ran her hands down his chest, tracing each one. The story of each scar coming to her as she touched it. She fought back the tears that were wholly hers. This was not a sad moment.

She took a deep breath as she reached his waistline. She undid his belt and his pants, but didn't remove them. She slide her hand inside, grasping him. He let out a small hiss at her touch. And his eyes fluttered shut when she started stroking him.

He put his hand on hers to stop it. It felt too good and he didn't want to arrive at the party early. He pulled her hand away and then removed his pants. She stood in awe for a moment at his beauty.

"It feels like you're a little over dressed," he half-joked with her.

She flushed a little, but obliged him, removing her shirt and leggings. She felt so exposed, standing there naked except for her necklace, not comfortable at all, like he appeared to be. She started to shift, covering herself with her hands and arms.

He lightly seized her hands, stopping her. He opened his mouth to say something, but the right words wouldn't come. Instead, he gently pushed her, so that she fell back, sitting on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of her, placing a hand on each one and then moving them apart.

She was even more uncomfortable now, with him just looking at her. She really wasn't that experienced and it had been a long time since she'd actually had sex—like 500 years a long time. And it had never been with someone like Dean.

Dean started kissing down her inner thigh and her mind blanked. Her only focus became the sensation of his lips, his hands on her skin. She put one hand behind her for bracing and with the other, she grabbed his shoulder, digging her nails in as her pleasure increased.

*******************************

Dean startled awake, cautious due to not recognizing the ceiling he was looking at. He felt a breath on his chest and looked down to see a blonde head sleeping there. It wasn't a dream, he assured himself, remembering the events of the night before this glorious morning.

His phone buzzed, breaking the magic of the moment. He tried to extricate himself out from under her without waking her, but she stirred when he started to move.

"Good morning," she smiled as she looked up at him.

"Morning," he replied with a kiss.

She frowned when she heard his phone buzz again. "Don't answer it," she wrapped her arms around him tight.

He lifted the corners of his mouth in an unhappy smile. "I'm sorry, I have to," he said as he reluctantly removed her arms.

She watched his nude form as he got up and walked over to his phone. She gave a low whistle went he bent over to pick it up off the floor. He turned his head towards her and batted his eyes while covering his mouth, faking shyness, causing her to giggle. Then he answered his phone.

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted his brother. "Is it urgent that I come back now? I'm kind of busy." He once again looked over at Max.

She couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, so she could only guess what Sam was saying.  Well, she could hear it, if she wanted, but she didn't want to take any more from him that he didn't give her.  

"Ok, I'll be there ASAP," he said into his phone before ending the call.  Then he looked over to Max.  "So sorry, but I have to get back to the bunker."  

She wasn't happy, but she also understood.  "It's ok. I mean, it's not ok, but it's ok."

Dean pulled up his jeans and gave her a quizzical look.

She tried to explain.  "I know how important your family and being a hunter is to you.  And while I'd rather you'd stay for breakfast and lunch and dinner and really, never leave my bed again," she sighed, "It's ok. But you'd better call and you'd better come back!" 

"Yes ma'am," he replied, buttoning up his shirt.

She stood, wrapping a sheet around her and moved next to him.  She grabbed his chin and made sure he was looking her in the eyes.  "I mean it, Dean. Come back. Call. Anytime. Anywhere." 

He saw the sincerity and feelings in her eyes.  They scared him a little, especially since she knew everything.  All his one night stands.  All his flings.  Yet she still looked at him like that.

He leaned in and kissed her fiercely.  "I promise.  I'll be back when I can." He started for the door.  

"Just make sure it's soon," she told him.

He turned around right as he put his hand on the doorknob.  "Wait, I don't have your number."

She smiled.  "Back left pocket."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Maxima Wise," he read the name aloud.  "You were named after a shitty car?" 

She rolled her eyes at him.  "I existed long before the car."

"Oh, so they named a shitty car AFTER you," he grinned, letting her know he was joking all around.  Then he turned to leave.

"Anytime, anywhere," she called as he walked out the door.  Then she flopped back on the bed, a huge smile spreading across her face.  "Anytime, anywhere," she repeated to herself, looking forward until then.


	2. Ain't No Sunshine

Max was pissed, mainly at herself, but also at Dean. She had handled the first month. She knew he was busy. She knew that he was hesitant about relationships, about allowing people into his life. She was prepared for the first month.

The second month was a little bit harder to take. She hadn't expected his return to take quite that long. She thought she would have at least gotten a phone call or a text message, a carrier pigeon maybe? But she hadn't heard a peep.

Max thought about tracking him down. It wouldn't have been hard for her, but that's not what she wanted. She had made it very clear to him how she felt. Anytime, anywhere she had told him. If he didn't want to come back, she didn't want to make him.

And it really seemed like he had wanted to. At least that's what she told herself. It's what she wanted to believe. But, as the end of the third month approached, her belief wavered. How could she be such an idiot?

Max took one last look around her now-empty apartment. She just couldn't stay here anymore. She didn't know where she was going. She was just going to drive until somewhere struck her fancy. Her belongings were already in one of those moveable storage units until she found wherever that was.

She could feel the tears burning tracks down her cheeks. She fought the memories—his memories—that tried to remind her that he really was a good man. But there were also those memories that proved he was not the relationship type. She didn't want to think about those either.

She made sure she had her keys and her phone and headed out the door. She hadn't been in Lebanon all that long, but she had thought maybe she'd have a home here. She liked that it was such a small town, where she could disappear. Then again, there were lots of small towns and big ones, where she could do the same. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she shut the door behind her. She only wished leaving her memories were as easy as leaving the apartment.

Dean screamed. He shouted. But he knew no one could hear. No one but _him_ ; Michael.

Dean cursed Michael. He had known it was a risk to let Michael in, but what was he supposed to do? Lucifer had to be stopped. Angels were a shitty lot of people.

And it's not like he didn't have a plan. He thought just a teensy bit that Michael, still being an archangel, would abide by his word. Dean figured he could always revoke his consent to be Michael's vessel, like Sam did with Gadreel, and be free of Michael if he didn't keep his word. But even that didn't work. Alternate Michael, alternate rules? Or maybe Michael just didn't give a shit about the rules.

So now Dean was trapped. A prisoner in his own body. Michael let him see and hear everything that happened. Dean knew it was a form of torture, which Michael was keen on. And Dean could do nothing to stop him.

Dean really didn't know if anyone or anything could stop him. Even if they had an archangel blade, it only works when it's wielded by an archangel, and there were no archangels left. Lucifer had stolen Jack's grace. Dean and Michael had killed Lucifer. And Michael had killed Gabriel. Chuck and the Darkness could help, _if_ they could be found and then only if they decided to. _Better the devil you know,_ Dean thought.

Dean had a brief thought about this world's Michael, but as far as Dean knew, he was still in the Cage. And if Lucifer were to be believed, Michael was a sniveling mess of a being, not worth anything. Of course, no one really even knew if that Michael was still alive.

This Michael was enjoying his new vessel. After all, it was his one, true vessel, his sword. It made him more powerful than ever and he doubted there were any that could stand against him. His hubris in full swing, he wondered if even God himself could stop him now.

Michael knew that he had time, lots and lots of time, in order to enslave this world and decided that he wanted to have some fun with the humans before laying waste to them. After all, they were his playthings. Simply allowed to live at his amusement. And this new vessel craved amusement. Michael wasn't used to being affected by his vessel, but then, he'd never had a vessel as powerful—or strong-willed—as this one.

Michael had found one of his favorite ways to break Dean down was to pick up a woman, have his way with her, and then murder her. Although Michael didn't really see it as murder. To him, it meant no more than slapping a mosquito or stepping on a bug. When he was feeling particularly cruel he would position himself and the woman in front of a mirror so that Dean could see not only his hands, but his face as well when Michael killed.

Dean tried to steel his nerves. He knew-hoped-Sam, his mom, Cas, would find a way to save him. Hell, maybe Rowena would come up with something. He had literally been to Hell and back. He could handle this. He could find a way out. He had to, or he had to take Michael, even if it meant killing himself in the process


	3. Breakfast in America

Max took her coffee from the barista with a thank you and headed towards the raised bar that sat in the window. Max loved to watch all the people walk by on the street. A very small part of her, that she refused to acknowledge, hoped that he would walk by and she could confront him. Occasionally she thought she saw him, but inevitably it wasn't.

She took a sip from her coffee, enjoying the dark, rich flavors that filled her mouth. She has just closed her eyes for a moment to savor the taste, when she felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck. Her eyes shot open and quickly darted around the room, trying to figure out what was causing the unusual sensation when she saw him.

 _It can't be,_ she told herself, as the familiar looking man on the street turned away from her sightline. How many had she thought were him but weren't? Then again, none had caused the sensation at the back of her neck, either.

She jumped up from her seat, forgetting her coffee, and walked outside. She had been keeping an eye on where the man went through the large front window. He was still turned away from her as she approached.

"Hey," she said, touching the man's shoulder. A strange power coursed through her. This 'person' wasn't human. It wasn't, "Dean!" she was tried to hide her surprise at the face that greeted her.

Not Dean smiled, but it was a fake smile and didn't reach his eyes. "Max, how are you?" he said with a voice that sounded like Dean's, but was much more measured. His clothes were also more refined as he was dressed in a gray suit, white shirt, and red tie.

The real Dean tried to blank his mind. He wanted Michael to know as little about Max as possible and Dean had already let her name slip. He could feel Michael trying to pry into his thoughts to find out how well he knew Max and what she was all about.

Max wasn't sure how to play this. She wasn't sure if she was dealing with a demon, a shifter, another witch, or something totally new altogether. It obviously had something of Dean's memory, as it knew her name. Or it could be psychic. And what if it knew she was special? This was a new situation on her.

She pushed aside her anger at Dean and decided to play it cool. "I'm good. It's been a while since I've seen you, how're you doing?"

"Never better," Michael replied, pushing harder into Dean's memories. This woman in front of him was quite beautiful and had a feeling of faint power. He wanted to know what she was. "What are you doing here?" he asked in hopes of finding out some information from her, not realizing she knew he wasn't Dean.

"Just passing through," she told him the truth. "You here working a case with Sam?"

That fake smile crossed his lips again. "No. Taking some time off," he replied. "Why don't we catch up over some breakfast…at my place?"

Max hesitated. She wanted to know who or what she was dealing with, what had happened to Dean, if this was the real Dean. This thing was more likely to show its true self in private. Plus there would be less collateral damage, if it came to that. She was also pretty confident in her ability to handle whatever this creature was.

"Sure," she agreed, hoping she pulled off her friendly smile.

Michael stuck out his arm for Max to loop hers through. She obliged, playing along. "Then let me lead the way," he told her as he led them towards his place.

Dean was doing his best not to scream. He really didn't want to give Michael any indication that Max was anything more than a passing acquaintance. Not that it would stop Michael from doing whatever he was planning with her. He had to calm himself for her sake and his own.

Michael's "place" was a penthouse suite at a hotel. When Max was ushered in by him, her first thought was that her studio apartment back in Lebanon was a closet compared to this place. Her second thought was that no way would Dean ever stay at a place like this. It would draw too much attention.

"Fancy digs for a hunter," she tried to bait him. "Didn't realize this was in your budget. Looks like maybe I should change professions."

"Sometimes you deserve the best," Michael replied, already having figured out she wasn't a hunter. Not that she could do anything to him even if she was.

Michael knew Dean was purposefully trying to hide his thoughts about Max from him. Little did Dean know, Michael had been able to pierce Dean's mind to find out about Max as they were walking over. Now Michael was trying to figure out a way to see the dampening charm for a clue about how powerful of a witch Max was.

Max walked around the main room of the suite, looking for anything out of place, any indication of what Not Dean was. _Breakfast,_ she thought. _If he doesn't eat, he's probably not human._ "So, what do you want for breakfast? We going to order room service?"

He smiled a wicked smile. Somehow it twisted his face, Dean's face, into something evil looking. Max tried to suppress the shudder that was fighting to travel down her spine. She didn't know what Not Dean knew about her.

He took a few strides and was suddenly upon her. He grabbed her in his arms and told her, "I was thinking I'd have you for breakfast." Then he laid a kiss on her lips.

Max stiffened. The kiss was so odd. It was Dean's lips, but it was not Dean's kiss. The arms that held her were Dean's, but this wasn't Dean's grasp. This was a hold, not a hug. And Not Dean was extremely strong. She began to worry about the dampening charm. Now might be a good time NOT to have it on. She began to struggle.

Michael spun her around, holding on to both her wrists in one of his hands. "You've obviously figured out I'm not Dean," he hissed and then he pulled the chain around her neck so he could look at the charm. "What is this perversion of Enochian?"

Max was extremely scared now. If he figured out… She couldn't break his hold on her own, so she started to speak a spell. He quickly dropped the charm and clamped one hand down over her mouth so she couldn't finish.

"They'll be none of that," he insisted. He did a little "magic" of his own and bound her hands with sigil-ed cords behind her. Then he released her mouth and turned her around, backing her up against the wall. He wanted to be able to see in her eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked. Before she could answer, he clarified, "Rather, _what_ are you?"

"I'm a witch," she told him, real fear in her eyes.

"You're more than a witch. A witch wouldn't need that charm," he said to her. "What. Are. You."

Max flashed to the last time those words came out of that mouth. Her heart sank, knowing that this was not going to end the same way, knowing this thing wasn't going to stop until she answered him. And knowing that this was an angel, very few others would recognize the Enochian part of her charm.

A memory of Dean's flashed into her mind. It was years before, when Lucifer had possessed Sam. Dean had found out he was Michael's sword. Michael's intended vessel.

"Michael?" she was surprised.

Michael gave a few short, slow claps. "Good for you. You figured it out."

"But, but you're an archangel. The first. God's chosen. What…what are you doing?"

His face became deadly serious and he started talking in his measured voice again. "I am not your world's Michael. Your Michael is weak and feeble-minded. I will use the power God has given me to lay waste to this world and re-create it in my image."


	4. Kiss Me Deadly

"I will use the power God has given me to lay waste to this world and re-create it in my image," Michael sneered.

Max couldn't stop the shudder that racked her body. The way he said those words, and coming from Dean's mouth. Her horror must have shown on her face because Michael started to laugh.

"Playtime is over. Now tell me what you are," he demanded.

Max had to stall. She had to think of a way to get out of there. "You mean you don't know?" she taunted him.

Michael backhanded Max across the face. Then he put his hand around her throat. "Don't think I'm a fool, Nephilim," he replied through gritted teeth.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,_ she thought. Her charm, being a combination of many languages including Enochian, Sumerian, and Elamite, normally wasn't recognized. And the cloaking spell on her back had never failed before. Of course, she'd never come across an archangel before. If she had, she would more than likely not still be alive.

 _A Nephilim?_ Dean was shocked and pissed. He had thought she was more than an ordinary witch, but part angel? How could she not tell him.

"Why ask if you already knew?" she pressed her luck in trying to stall.

"I was giving you the opportunity to get in my good graces," he tried to sound magnanimous. "After seeing Lucifer's son, let's just say I've come to appreciate the power your kind possess."

"I don't give a shit about your good graces," Max spit back.

Michael produced his archangel blade. "Then I guess I'll just have to take your grace."

Max did the only thing she could think of and head-butted Michael, causing him to release his grip on her and stumble back a step. She took the opportunity to run, trying to finish the spell she started earlier. But she wasn't fast enough with her hands tied behind her back.

Michael grabbed her roughly by the hair and yanked her to the ground. Max hit with a thud that knocked the wind out of her and rattled her brain. Michael straddled her, pinning her.

"Why don't you untie me for a fair fight?" she weezed out.

"A fair fight? How dare you think you're my equal," Michael indignantly replied. "You will always be part human and therefore beneath me."

Max lifted her head and spit on him. She started to insult him some more, but Michael stood and then yanked her to her feet.

He pushed her towards an open door on the far side of the room. "I guess I will have to teach you your place."

Max's head was still a little foggy from the hit to the floor. She assumed he was going to try and take her grace again, making her mortal. At least she would still have her magic. It didn't dawn on her what was about to actually happen until she got a look through the open door, to a bedroom.

Dean could hear Michael's thoughts. And he called Michael every word he could think of to piss Michael off. Then he tried to bargain.

"I'll stop fighting. Call off Sam. Tell them to stop trying to save me," he offered. All he got in return was an echo of a laugh in his thoughts.

Max stopped moving when she saw the room. This was not happening. She hadn't felt this powerless and weak since her daughter was murdered. No one had been able to harm her before because no one had known what she was.

"Please, Michael," she begged. "I..I'm your niece!" she tried.

"Ha!" he dismissed her, shoving her forward. "I'm not from this world and so as far as I'm concerned, the only thing you are is a nuisance."

She stumbled and her knees hit the bed. This caused her to fall forward, face planting on the bed, her feet still on the floor. Michael positioned himself behind her and grabbed her hips, holding her in place.

She started to whimper. "Please don't do this. Please!"

Her cries were echoed by Dean, promising Michael whatever he wanted. But Michael already had what he wanted—Dean.

"Just take my grace, please! I won't fight you!" it was her turn to try and bargain.

"When I finish with you, I'll take your grace anyway. I don't need you to 'give' it to me," he told her, rubbing himself against her.

She shut her eyes, trying to visualize a monster behind her and not the visage of a man she cared about. But Michael was all about torment and torture. He wouldn't let her escape, not even in her mind.

He flipped her so that she was lying on her back, arms still trapped behind her. "Open your eyes," he ordered.

She shook her head no.

He slapped her and gruffly grabber her chin. "Don't make me tell you again. Open. Your. Eyes."

Her eyes fluttered open. His face, Dean's face, twisted in anger, was inches from her own. The ugliness burning into her mind.

He placed his hand on her throat again, this time cutting of her air supply. With his other hand he started to remove his tie. She blacked out about the time he started working on his belt.

She came back to her senses confused and in the process of being violated. She opened her eyes and saw Dean—Not Dean, Michael—shirtless, pants just off his hips, pushing himself into her. He berated her with every movement, trying to put her in her place.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming from the corners. She turned her head to the side, not even wanting to face the monster on top of her.

Michael noticed her movement, pleased she was awake. He grabbed her chin again, forcing her face towards him. "Tsk, tsk. What did I say?"

She reluctantly opened her eyes. For a brief moment, she flashed back to the last night she had spent with Dean, the real Dean. She thought about how attentive, how deliberate all his actions were. Her moment of peace shattered by the beast rutting on top of her, using his voice to torment her. The good memories being overwritten by bad.

Michael finished, leaving her—and Dean—an emotional mess. She rocked to her side and brought her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Michael redressed himself and then turned to Max with his archangel blade in hand.

"And now for the real prize," he sneered as her walked back towards her.

Max, however, had her own weapon this time. Michael's assault had rubbed the ropes that bound her loose and she had removed them as Michael dressed. As soon as he took his first step, she tore the necklace off. Michael's eyes widened a second before she hit him with an energy blast. She knew it wouldn't kill him, but it did stun him enough. She was finally able to finish her spell and disappeared before Michael had regained his senses. Michael cursed as she escaped.

Max wasn't even sure where she was when she reappeared. She said a few words and cleaned up the mess she was. Then she sat down in the grass where she was and cried.


	5. Landslide

If he had a stomach, its contents would have long been emptied. If he had vocal chords, they would be raw from all the screaming. If he were anywhere but here, Dean would murder Michael with his bare hands, archangel or not.

Dean had tried to close his eyes, to turn away, to take back control of his body. But Michael was a strong, cruel bastard. Dean had to watch the entire ordeal. The ultimate violation of a woman he had feelings for, the first in a long time. Even as a demon, he wouldn't have thought about doing something so heinous. Dean would never be able to look at himself the same again.

 _I'm never going to be able to look at him the same again,_ Max thought as she sat in her car on the side of the road. Her head resting on the steering wheel. Flashes of what happened gripping her, causing her chest to seize.

 _Breathe. Just breathe,_ she tried to encourage herself. She lifted her head and looked around. She wasn't sure where she was, or even how she had gotten here. Or even how she had gotten back to her car. She had just suddenly found herself on autopilot, driving, an urge to reach the bunker, to warn Sam, Mary, Castiel, everyone there. Michael was coming.

She felt the nausea rising with enough warning that she was able to get out of the car before throwing up. By this time, it was just stomach acid. She hadn't eaten anything in she didn't even know how long. And even the thought of eating made her stomach roil. She heard the sound of a car pulling up behind her and turned to look. _Is that—_

Before she could finish her thought, Sam Winchester climbed out of the Impala.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked as he approached her slowly, wanting to show he wasn't a threat.

"Sam Winchester?" she couldn't believe her eyes. Especially after what she had been seeing or not-seeing since….

A questioning look crossed his face. "Do…do I know you?" he asked, not recognizing her face.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "No, but I know your brother."

He should've known. "Are you ok?" he repeated his earlier question, really seeing how pale she was and the dark circles under her eyes now that he was closer.

She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but no words came out. She hadn't let herself ponder that question until that moment. Tears welled in her eyes and she began to sob, shaking her head.

Sam moved to put a comforting hand on her back, but she flinched away. Half out of not wanting a repeat of what happened the first time Dean touched her when she wasn't wearing her charm and half because she just didn't want to be touched by a man right now.

Worry painted across Sam's face. "Did.." Sam really didn't want to ask, especially knowing Michael possessed his brother, but he knew he had to. "Did he hurt you?"

She tried to catch a breath. "I know it wasn't him," she choked out. "It …Michael…" she collapsed on the ground, reliving everything.

Sam was surprised she knew about Michael. It made her wonder who this woman was. He squatted down next to her, being careful not to touch her. "I'm so sorry," was all Sam could think to say.

She looked over at Sam after a few minutes, took a deep breath. "How?" she asked. "How could Michael take him?"

Sam understood the question. This woman knew about angels. He wondered if she was another hunter he just hadn't met. "What do you know?" he asked, so he knew what he could tell her.

"Apocalypse world, Jack, your mom, Lucifer." She hoped he understood through her quiet sobs.

Sam nodded. "Lucifer didn't die in the other world. He and Michael came here. Lucifer turned on him and stole Jack's grace."

Max's eyes got wide. "Not good."

"That's an understatement," Sam agreed. "Dean allowed Michael in so that he could defeat Lucifer. They had a deal and defeated Lucifer but this Michael's a prick and took over."

Max took another deep breath, steadying her voice and wiping the tears out of her eyes. She couldn't believe she was breaking down like this. " _That's_ the understatement," she replied. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Sorry, I'm such a mess."

"If you had a run in with Michael, I'm just glad you're alive."

She gave him a weak smile. Then she swore under her breath. "I'm so sorry. I haven't even given you my name."

"It's ok," Sam replied. "And you don't owe me any apologies. But a name would be nice."

"Max. I'm Max," she tentatively reached out a hand.

Sam took it. "I want to say 'nice to meet you' but it somehow doesn't seem appropriate."

She let out a breath, thankful nothing happened when they touched. She nodded. "Can I tell you something crazy?"

Sam laughed a little. "Crazy is normal to me."

"I was on my way to the bunker," she told him.

Sam couldn't hide his surprise. "Dean told you about the bunker?"

"He…" she paused. He hadn't told her. It was in his memories that she had. "It's a long story."

"With my brother, it usually is," Sam let it go for the moment. Max still wasn't looking so hot. "You want to ride with me? We aren't too far from the bunker and can send someone back to get your car."

"I look that bad?" she half laughed, half cried.

"Yeah, you kinda do," he stood, offering her a hand up.

She took the offer and he pulled her up. "Let me get a couple things out of my car."

He nodded and started back towards the Impala. He wondered what the story was with Max. Clearly she was someone to Dean, not just another hunter. And he wondered what happened between her and Michael, but, from her original reaction when Sam tried to touch her, he could probably guess. And his worry for his brother grew.

She came upon the car and opened the passenger door. Then she threw a couple bags in the backseat and got in. Sam was already in the driver's seat, keys in the ignition. Without a word he started the car and began to drive.


	6. Spooky Little Girl

Sam was a little surprised that Max fell asleep as soon as they started driving. She had been very agitated before. But 10 minutes into the drive, she was out. He was happy that she felt safe enough with him to fall asleep, but disappointed that he wasn't going to get to talk to her and find out more about her. He would just have to settle for waiting.

Sam decided to wake Max up a few miles from the bunker. He wanted to talk to her for a few minutes about the situation in the bunker. He wasn't sure the last time she spoke to Dean and so he wanted to prepare her for the amount of people currently residing there.

He pondered how to do it for a few minutes. He wasn't sure he wanted to shake her. He knew she was still jumpy. He had already tried calling her name, but she didn't seem to stir. He wasn't sure if he wanted to play a loud noise either, as he was pretty convinced she was more than just human after surviving a confrontation with Michael.

He had decided to gently lay a hand on her shoulder. It had no more than brushed the fabric of her shirt sleeve when her eyes popped open and she grabbed his wrist. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

"Max, it's Sam," he said to her, as she appeared unfocused and his wrist was starting to hurt.

She blinked a couple of times and then her eyes settled on his face. "Oh, Sam! Sorry!" she quickly let go of his wrist. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

Sam rubbed his wrist a little. "Nope, I'm fine. How're you?"

"Amazed I fell asleep. Are we at the bunker?" she asked.

"Not quite yet," Sam told her and then explained the situation at the bunker to her. "So, you're ok around other people?"

Max noted the tone of his voice. "Are you asking me if I'm _safe_ around other people?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "I know you're more than human," he confessed. "I just want to make sure you're not a danger."

Max let out a sigh. She had known Sam was the intellectual one from all of Dean's memories. She should have guessed he would figure her out quickly. _Truth,_ she promised herself. _For Dean._

"I am a witch," she started.

Sam nodded. "What kind of witch?"

She knew it wasn't going to be the answer he was looking for, but it was the one he had to hear. "A Nephilim witch."

Sam's eyes grew wide. "What? Is that possible? I thought all the Nephilim were dead? How do the angels not know about you?"

"Obviously it's possible, because here I am," she told him. "And the rest? How long till you're expected back?" She wanted to know if she should give him the short version or the long version.

"How ever long you need," he responded. He didn't want her to spare any details. His thirst for knowledge was always at the forefront.

She paused for a brief moment, wondering where to begin, and decided to start at the very beginning. She told Sam how her mother was a powerful old witch, Lillith (but not _the_ Lillith), who had wanted a daughter but had never been able to conceive. With help from some extremely ancient and dangerous magic, her mother tricked an angel into sleeping with her and then forgetting all about it. Lillith thought she would survive the birth due to her magic, but she didn't. Some hunters who had come to kill Lillith had found her, her mother already dead, and raised her.

"So, do you know who dad is?" Sam asked the million-dollar question.

"He's…I…I've never said his name out loud," she admitted. "I've always been worried that I would say it and then he would appear and smite me. And honestly, I've never told anyone what I've just told you, not even Dean. I just let most people think I'm a witch."

Sam let the father subject go for the moment as he had a more pressing question. "How can you pass as not a Nephilim? Especially to angels and demons?"

"I have a small tattoo on my back," she explained. "It looks like a single character, but it's actually many, you just have to know how to look at it. It's a cloaking spell. It hides my true nature."

"But doesn't your power give off a signature too?" Sam inquired.

She smiled, pleased at his knowledge. "It does, which is why I usually have a dampening charm. Unfortunately I lost my current one getting away from Michael. I guess I'll have to get another one made soon."

"I don't think you have to worry about the angels, right now," he informed her. "They have their own problems, like keeping Heaven going. At this point, they'd probably welcome you with open arms."

"Good to know," she replied. "At least there's one less thing to worry about."

"You know Castiel, an angel, is staying here, too," Sam wanted her to be prepared.

She nodded. "I know. I'm prepared for whatever has to happen so that we can save Dean."

"Ok, then," he put the car back into gear. "Let's go meet everyone."


	7. Ten Years Gone

Max was glad the garage was empty when they pulled in. She had almost panic inducing thoughts that everyone from the bunker would be there to greet her. Max really didn't like being the center of attention.

Sam reached in to the backseat to grab Max's bags. "Let me get those for you."

"It's—" she was going to tell him no, but he reached the bags before she could. "Thank you."

Sam led her out of the garage and into the bunker. They snaked around a few halls, Max marveling at the size of the place. Her mouth fell agape when they passed through the library and she made a mental note of its location. Finally they came to a stop in front of a closed door.

"I think this is the last empty room," Sam told her, setting down her bags and opening the door.

Max walked in to the room. There was a made bed and a dresser. In one corner sat a small desk. She liked it. It felt homey.

"Sorry it's so small," Sam put her bags on the floor at the foot of the bed. "And you'll have to share a bathroom."

"It's great!" she replied. "Remember, I've lived in villages with no plumbing or doors."

Sam couldn't help himself, "How old are you?"

"Um, I just had a birthday, and so I'm 1581," she gave him a please-don't-kill-me smile.

"Shit," Sam scratched his chin, trying to wrap his head around being alive that long. "You'll have to let me pick your brain sometime."

"Absolutely. Anytime," she agreed.

Sam's phone buzzed and he looked down at it. When he looked up he asked, "Do you need anything else at the moment?"

She shook her head no. "I'm good. Going to try and sleep."

Sam headed for the door.

"Oh!" she stopped him. "Am I allowed to wander?"

"Yes, of course. You're a guest, not a prisoner," he told her. She thanked him and he left.

As soon as the door shut, she locked it. Then she plopped down on the bed. She felt safe for the moment. She was surrounded by people and wards. Michael (hopefully) couldn't get her. And if he could get to her, at least this time her dampening charm wouldn't be a factor and she might have a fighting chance.

She closed her eyes, forcing all thoughts from her mind. She wanted to think about Dean, being in his home, but only Michael's Dean kept popping up. And she would rather think of burning over hot coals than that. Then she did something she hated doing and used her magic to put herself to sleep.

Max wasn't sure what time it was when she woke up and she didn't really care. Her only thought was the rumble in her stomach, not being able to remember the last time she ate. She thought she could remember the way to the kitchen. She figured she grab something small to eat and then head to the library to check it out.

She was halfway through a sandwich and a volume on angel lore, when she heard a few footsteps behind her. They stopped suddenly and she felt someone boring holes in to her back with their eyes.

"Maxima Vortigan," came a voice from behind her that she recognized from Dean's memories as Castiel. "How are you alive?"

The seething in the voice caused her to jump out of her seat and face him. "Wait!" she wanted to stop him, total shock on her face. Max had only ever seen Castiel through Dean's eyes and so only saw Jimmy Novak. But here and now, she could see the angel Castiel and it wasn't the first time they'd met.

Cas was on her with his angel blade drawn before she could say anything else. "I will not let you bring any more death or destruction to this world or the people I care about!"

Max held up her hands in surrender. "I'm only here to help Dean," she told him, knowing how special Cas and Dean's relationship was.

Cas hesitated for a moment. Max quickly grabbed the angel blade and threw it to the side. Cas grabbed her by the upper arms and started to unfurl his wings. Max placed her hands on his arms, then used her body weight to fall backwards and flip him over her. She scrambled behind a table.

"Please," she begged him to stop. "I'm not who I once was. I don't want to hurt you or anyone else!"

Cas stalked towards her, flipping the table that was in front of her. "You are a liar and a murderer. People like you don't change!"

Max tried to recall how she had pushed her memory onto Dean. It was not an ability she had honed. She recalled as much as she could and, when Cas got near, grabbed his face, and used everything she had to send him the memories she wanted him to see, hoping it worked.

Cas's body stiffened, like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. Max removed her hands quickly, not wanting to harm him, just make him see the truth. Cas stumbled back a few steps after being released, then sat in the nearest chair.

With wide eyes, he looked at her. "You…You're..." he just couldn't quite get the words out.

"A Nephilim, yes," she answered his question.

"But still, you died. I saw your sword and your head," Cas was still a bit out of sorts from all the images in his head. There were hundreds of years of images. Lives lost and lives saved. Villages and peoples protected. And the overwhelming guilt from the life Max lived the last time she and Cas crossed paths.

Max hated who she was back then. She had been raised by hunters, who had marked her with cloaking tattoo and a powerful dampener that basically left her powerless. She hadn't even known she had powers until she was 18 and discovered by a powerful witch who served a demon. He had recognized the tattoos, figured out what she was, and through her naivety, turned her in to a destroyer.

"That was the idea," she told him. "I wanted to change. I had to disappear. The best way was to make every one think I had been defeated, killed. And obviously it worked."

"How do I know this is the truth?" he asked her, still very skeptical.

"You've not heard a word from me in over a millennium. And if I'd wanted to, I could have killed you where you stood," she offered as proof.

"Very true," he replied, a little more convinced.

"Castiel, I'm here because Michael needs to be dealt with and Dean needs to be freed," she paused for a moment, really wanting Cas's support. "You set the terms and I'll abide by them. Whatever you need to know that I'm telling the truth."

Cas thought for a moment, sifting through more of the memories. One came to the forefront. It was Dean, his eyes, his smile. Cas recognized that smile. A strange twinge hit Cas in the chest. And he could feel her emotions in that moment. The desire. The care. The unworthiness that anyone, especially someone like Dean, would look at her that way. Cas started to slowly nod his head.

Max blew out a relieved breath. "Conditions?" she asked, a little nervous about what he may ask of her.

"When this Michael is defeated, you will help us restore our Michael, however is needed," Cas gave her a look that said, 'even if it means giving him your grace.'

She nodded. "Whatever it takes to restore our Michael. Anything else?"

"Stay away from Dean."


	8. Just What I Needed

"Anything else?" Max asked, being able to live with restoring Michael, but scared what else he might ask.

"Stay away from Dean." Cas quickly added, "And Sam and Mary. They don't need any more trouble."

Max opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it again. Castiel was right. Dean—his family—they didn't need her kind of trouble in their lives. They had plenty in their own right. And no matter how much she cared about him, she didn't even know if she would be able to overcome the memory of the rape. She knew it wasn't Dean, but it was his hands, his lips, his weight on her.

She nodded. "I'll stay away from the Winchesters."

"You break either condition and I will kill you," Cas told her.

 _I should be so lucky,_ she thought.

Sam came in to the room, interrupting, gun in hand. "What's going on in here? Everything alright?"

Cas and Max looked at each other, each silently asking how they should respond. It was Cas who spoke up first.

"Max thought she saw a spider," Cas responded. "We were trying to kill it."

Max started nodding. "Yup, spider. Hate those things."

Sam lowered his weapon. "A spider?" he asked skeptically.

"It was huge," Cas added, doubting Sam was any more convinced.

"But it got away," Max chimed in, overthinking the situation and wanting to explain why there was no carcass to show.

"Uh-huh," Sam was getting extremely suspicious.

"Anyway," Max tried to end the awkwardness. "Thank you, Cas," she said in all sincerity regarding their agreement.

He tilted his head towards her in acknowledgement.

They all stood there for another moment looking at each other. Sam very skeptical. Max uncomfortable. Cas determined.

"Well, I better take this plate back to the kitchen before we get mice, too," Max interrupted the silence. "You gentlemen have a good night, morning, whatever it is." Then she grabbed the plate and book she was reading and left.

"Do I even want to know what that was really about?" Sam asked Cas.

"No," Cas answered right before disappearing.

Sam shook his head. "Angels!" Then he, too, left the library, and headed back to his room.

His course took him past the kitchen, where Max still happened to be. He could hear her mumbling, but couldn't make out a word she was saying. And she sounded upset. He thought about just walking by, but there was something about her that caused him to want to get to know her. _Intellectual curiosity,_ he told himself.

"You ok?" he peeked his head in.

She jumped and let out a small whimper. "Sam! You scared me!"

"Sorry!" he apologized. "I heard you talking and you sounded distressed."

She grimaced. "I was talking out loud?"

Sam nodded.

"I'm ok," she replied. "Just a lot on my mind."

"I understand that." Sam hesitated for a moment, then, deciding to seize the opportunity, inquired, "Would it be ok if I asked you a couple questions now?"

Max's agreement with Cas was in the forefront of her mind, but surely there was a grace period before it began. "Sure, maybe it'll take my mind off things or help me focus."

Sam motioned towards the small table that was in the kitchen. Max walked over and sat in one of the chairs, with Sam following.

"Out with it," she encouraged him after a few more moments of silence, where he seemed to be studying her. "You're not going to offend or embarrass me."

"Where in the world did Dean meet you?" Sam spit out.

Max's cheeks flushed a little red. "Ok, that is an embarrassing story," she laughed. "Bea's Adult Beverage Store."

"Here? In Lebanon?" Sam was a bit surprised.

"Yea," she confirmed. "I lived her for a short while." She then proceeded to tell him a shortened, edited version of the night's events.

"Sounds about right for the Winchester boys' luck with relationships," he observed.

"Mine, too," she told him. "You'd think I'd be a little bit wiser about the subject because I've lived so many lifetimes, but, sometimes it feels like I'm just getting worse at it."

He reached out and patted her hand in comfort, leaving it there. She looked down at his hand on hers and then back up to his face. His eyes, a blue/green instead of the green/gold of Dean's, were kind, full of knowledge, and echoed the heartbreak she saw in Dean's. A small smile crossed her face and Sam returned it. He felt like an old friend, someone she'd known for more than 24 hours. _Of course,_ she told herself, _that could be all of Dean's memories coming through._

"That can't be the only thing you wanted to know," she chided him, not moving her hand out from under his, just going with the new comfortableness of his presence.

"No, it's not," he responded, seemingly self-conscious that his first question was about her and Dean. "But I don't know if you're ready to answer the question I want to ask. And I don't want to press you."

"You want to know who my father is," she said it because he didn't.

He nodded. It was the question burning a hole in his brain.

"Do you have a pen and a piece of paper?" she asked.

He gave her a confused look, not knowing where she was going.

She smiled a little wider. "I don't want to say it, but I'll write it down…for you."

"Uhhhhh," Sam got up to search a few drawers and came back with a paper bag and half a crayon. He smiled weakly as he handed them to her.

"This works," she took the objects from him. She quickly wrote down the name and then folded the bag in half before handing it back to Sam, who had sat back down.

Sam took the bag like it would disappear if he wasn't careful. Here was a secret she hadn't shared with anyone, not even Dean, but she was sharing it with him. He didn't know what name to give what he was feeling, but he certainly liked it. He unfolded the bag.

"Holy shit!" he jumped up out of the chair. "We might actually be able to beat Michael and get Dean back!"

Sam grabbed her up out of her chair, crushing her to him. He was excited about the first real possibility of saving Dean from Michael.

She felt a little awkward, not really used to sudden displays of such affection. Touching her hand was one thing, but holding her so tight was another. She could smell his cologne or soap or maybe just him. And she could feel his heart beating fast against his chest. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She cared deeply for Dean. He held so much meaning in her life, more than she had ever told him. But Sam…totally different than his brother.

Sam loosened his hold on her so he could look at her. They locked eyes for a moment and then Sam bent down and kissed her.


	9. (Don't Fear) The Reaper

Sam paced his room. He couldn't believe that he had kissed her. There were so many different reasons why that was wrong, not the least of which was her relationship with Dean. He tried to rationalize that he was just caught up in the moment.

And that would have been easier to rationalize had it just been a momentary kiss. If their lips had touched and then one—or both—had moved back. But that's not what happened.

It had started as a soft kiss, an askance on his part. Her lips had parted, answering with a yes. Their breaths mingled and he got lightheaded. Then they both seemed to sober up, each quickly taking a step back. Score two for loyalty.

Sam was intrigued by her. He found Max fascinating, especially after his talk with Rowena. He figured if he wanted to know witch history the best person to ask was a witch. Surely Rowena would know about Max's mother, if Lillith were as powerful as Max said. And Rowena did.

Even in the fifth century, Lillith was an old witch. No one knew exactly how old and she wasn't saying. It was rumored that she had wanted a child, a Nephilim child, to control, to right all of her perceived wrongs and to spite God.

No one knew if the child was actually born. Some said Lillith never had a child. Others said Lillith and the child were killed by hunters. Yet others said Lillith died in child birth and hunters took the child, not knowing the child's true origins. And a million other versions.

About a score after Lillith's death, there was a woman who was rumored to be Lillith's daughter. No one knew her real name; they simply called her "Bás agus Scriosadh" or Death and Destruction. She was the right hand of a dark, powerful witch, Seth, who was beholden to a demon. She carried a sword that was said to have been forged using a nail from the Crucifixion. Everyone called it "The Scythe" because she used it to mow down armies.

For fifty years they were unstoppable. Destroying anyone who wouldn't worship them. Then, one day, a young man, barely 16, walked into his village with Seth's and her heads and swords, after being the only one to go stand against them. The kicker, the young man was a Winchester ancestor.

Bás agus Scriosadh had to be Maxima, especially now that he knew who her father was. It made sense that she hadn't died that day, so was the story wrong? Had she faked her death? What had changed in her? She was obviously not still that person.

These were actually the questions he had wanted to ask her about when they sat in the kitchen, but trying to figure out how Dean had come to know her without him was eating at him. And then everything went to shit because he had to kiss her. He hadn't even had the chance to tell her her dad was dead. He just hoped she didn't hate him now.

Max was sure he was going to hate her now and turn on her. She couldn't even keep her agreement with Castiel for a couple hours. He wasn't going to trust her going forward. It's not like she had planned on meeting Sam in the kitchen or kissing him. Him kissing her? Did it really matter?

The kiss did matter, though. It was soft and gentle, requesting a return, not fierce and unapologetic like Dean's. Dean knew what he wanted, knew what he was good at, and did it, not expecting much past the current moment. Sam was thoughtful, but always questioning, seeking approval or permission. What's going to happen next? When will this happen again? Is he worthy of this?

She liked Sam's tentativeness just as much as she liked Dean's bravado. They were like the two faces of Janus. And both spoke to different parts of her.

Max sat with her head in her hands, elbows on the small desk in the room where she was staying. Cas was going to be doubly pissed about the whole kiss thing because of how it was going to hurt Dean. And what was it going to do to Dean and Sam's relationships? Why the fuck couldn't she stop messing up everyone's lives?

The only good thing to come out of this whole ordeal was the fact that Sam thought she had a real shot at helping them stop Michael and free Dean. She wasn't exactly sure how because even though, as the daughter of an archangel, she could wield an archangel blade, she didn't have one. And she knew it was too big a risk to assume she could get Michael's away from him. Not to mention that they would have to find a way to expel Michael from Dean, otherwise Dean would die too.

She felt a hot tear run down her cheek. _The mighty daughter of Gabriel and Lillith,_ she thought. _Death and destruction is all I ever bring._ She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

They had to save Dean, whatever the cost. She pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. She knew she couldn't tell Cas what had happened between her and Sam and she hoped Sam wouldn't mention it either. Once they saved Dean, she be gone from their lives forever so it didn't matter anyway. The Winchesters were her past, always her past, never her future.


	10. I Would Do Anything for Love

Sam stood outside Max's door, his knuckles hovering over the wood. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize. He hesitated thinking maybe it would be better, if he let it go. _It was just a kiss,_ he thought, knowing he was lying to himself. He rapped his knuckles on the door.

After not receiving an answer, he decided to knock a little louder, thinking maybe she was sleeping. But still nothing.

"Max," he called. "Are you in there?"

A dread started in the pit of his stomach and he reached for the doorknob. Unlocked. He slowly swung the door open to find the room empty.

He hit the nearest wall with his fist. Max was gone. Her stuff was gone. She'd left. Was it because of him?

Max hurriedly looked through the crates and boxes in the bowels of the bunker. She knew that someone would discover her gone from her room any time now. But she couldn't leave without it—her sword.

She couldn't sleep and she couldn't stay in her room after the kiss with Sam, so she went back to the library. This time she was searching out history on herself, on her sword. She knew the boy she had given it to was a Winchester ancestor. It's one of the many reasons she got so pissed when she finally figured out who Dean was that first night. She couldn't believe she didn't recognize his eyes, the boy's eyes.

She had laughed when she first saw the boy, although he was considered a man back then at about 16. He was standing by himself, a crude axe resting against his shoulder. His sandy hair was cut close to his beautiful face, which was set like stone.

She walked within striking distance, not fearing the lone child. He didn't move a muscle, didn't flinch, as she got closer. And that irked her.

"Wish to be the first to die?" she asked him.

"They'll be no killing in my village. The only ones set to die today are you and your demon master."

"Then where is your army?" she chided him.

The boy looked her straight in the eyes. "I am the army."

She went to draw her sword, to strike him down, but she couldn't remove it from its sheath on her back. He took the opportunity to swing his axe at her. She easily caught it and ripped it away from the boy.

"I don't need a weapon to kill you, but let's see how you fare without one!" she lunged at the boy.

As soon as she made contact, the world stopped around her while time went in to fast-forward. The images were too fast for her to focus on any one. All the lives she had cut down. More death, more war. New life. Destruction like she had never seen. Structures she couldn't imagine. Disease. Famine. Everything, until it came to a halt on one image

She saw the beautiful, smiling face of an infant. Eyes like the boy's, green-gold. She didn't know when, or who, or why. She just knew this child would change everything. And the tar and soot and hate around her heart melted. A tear ran down her cheek.

The world righted itself and she was back on the field, laying flat on her back. The boy had her sword and its tip was pressed against her neck. It was one of the few weapons in existence that might actually be able to kill her.

"Do it!" she told him, through the tears that were now streaming down her cheek. "I deserve it."

His head cocked to the side, like he was listening to someone talk. He then looked her in the eyes again. "It is not your time to die," his voice had changed, become more. It seemed like it was all around her. "You have much to do, but first you must choose."

It was in that moment that Seth came riding over the horizon. His face twisted in rage when he saw Max prone on the ground. She turned when she heard the hoof beats and for the first time, saw Seth for what he was.

His face was charred skin with bone exposed in places. His eyes were empty black pits. Behind him, black, billowing forms followed. Even his horse was skeletal with patches of skin missing. She questioned what she had been following.

A power rose up from within her. She cast her hand back, letting out a scream. A ripple went out from where she lay and when it hit the ghastly figure, he and his horse disintegrated in to ash, carried away by the wind.

She turned back to the boy, to see him holding out his hand to help her up. She was a little leery after their last touch, but took the chance and grabbed his hand. He pulled her up with amazing ease. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

"I'm going to keep this," he told her, indicating the sword.

She simply nodded in agreement.

The boy turned and started walking away.

"Wait!" she called after him. "You'll need more than that to convince them you defeated us."

Max picked up a couple of good-sized rocks. She requested the sword from the boy for a moment, and he complied. She cut her palm and then drew a couple of symbols on the rocks in her blood. They transformed into likeness of her and Seth's heads. She did the same with a stick so that it appeared as Seth's sword. Then she handed it all to the boy.

"You will never hear about us again," she promised.

The boy took his bounty and went on his way, leaving Max standing there, wondering what she was going to do next. She decided to travel, became a healer, a teacher. And every now and again she would check on the boy and his descendants.

That was another reason she was so mad that night she met Dean. She couldn't believe the Winchesters turned hunter when they had been one of the oldest lines in the Men of Letters. Especially when she thought hunters were barbarians and killers. It's amazing what changes in 150 years.

She found a crate in a far corner and went to move it so she could open it. As soon as she touched it, she knew her sword, the Scythe, was inside. It called to her, recognized her, even after all this time. It had been made specifically for her and some of her blood had been placed in an ampule in the hilt of the sword.

She opened the crate and paused. The sword was as magnificent as she remembered. It was a long sword, poured in a mold she carved with a spear point. The Crucifixion nail was in the fuller of the blade, preserved by the mysteries of the Christian God. It was double-edged so that it was deadly no matter which way it was swung. The hilt was wrapped in leather, dyed red. And the pommel was carved with a reaper's scythe in the center.

She pulled it out of the crate. It felt like an old friend had returned. She only hoped that it would be able to do what she wanted.

 _Now to find Jack for the second part of my plan._ She was going to save Dean, but she couldn't do it alone.


	11. Ring of Fire

Max was behind the wheel, driving down the highway. She couldn't help it. She felt like she was kidnapping him. He was just so….trusting.

Jack was in the passenger's seat beside her. She had invited him to "go get lunch" so they could talk. While she did want to talk to him and it was about being a Nephilim, he had no idea what her actual intentions were.

"So, where are we going?" Jack asked. He knew some of the roads around the bunker from hunting with Sam and Dean. And he knew this was not the way to town.

She turned to him and quickly gave him a sheepish smile. "I lied," she told him, turning back towards the road. "I mean, I can take you to lunch, but that's not really why I wanted to get you alone, away from the bunker."

"I would like lunch. I am hungry," Jack replied in his child-like manner. "But then we wouldn't be alone."

Max nodded, with a wide smile crossing her face. She had met Jack briefly at the bunker, but had a lot of memories of him from Dean. She liked that he was straightforward, that he didn't lie. He didn't use any double-speak because he didn't know how.

"We'll grab something to eat and then we'll talk." She didn't want him to be distracted by an empty stomach.

They pulled off at the first exit with somewhere to grab some food. They sat in the car in the parking lot eating, so that Max could talk while they ate.

"Jack," she started. "What I really want to talk about is Dean and us saving him."

Jack's eyes grew wide. "Us saving him? Why do you need me? I don't have my grace anymore so I am useless."

"That's the thing," she took a breath. "I don't think Lucifer took all your grace. You should be able to recharge and I want to give you mine."

Jack started to shake his head 'no'. "I couldn't—"

"Let me tell you my reasons," she interrupted him. "You're stronger than I am because your father is Lucifer. With my grace, you should be back up to almost full power. Michael won't be expecting that. Plus, I'll still have my craft."

"Even with grace, I don't really know how to use it. I got some practice in the other world, but I still have a lot to learn."

"I know," she responded. "But I can give you my knowledge of the power as well. And I figure with the two of us, we should be able to free Dean and kill Michael."

Jack had a look of concentration on his face as he thought about it. "Dean did everything he could to save me. I'll do the same for him."

Max got excited and hugged Jack awkwardly in the cramped space of her front seat.

"Thank you so much!"

Jack smiled. "So, what's the plan after giving me your grace?"

The drive to Los Angeles was long. Max told Jack her story, how she didn't know what she was until well into her life. She told him about the first time she met Cas and how they almost killed each other. Jack told her about his mother and the other world. Their conversation was easy and they felt like the family they were.

Max kept her grace for the trip. She wanted it to track Michael. Not to mention she was worried that Jack might burn it all up before their fight. She needed him at as close to full strength as he could be. It also helped her remain calm. She knew what she was going to have to do, and it was scary.

They set up in an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They wanted to limit collateral damage because they knew this wasn't going to go smooth. Plus it didn't matter if they drew on the walls, floor and ceilings.

After they had the warehouse set up the way they wanted, they had to lure Michael there. Max knew she had to be the bait. Michael would want to finish was he started and kill her. Not to mention the temptation of her grace.

Max found Michael at an upscale club, Lux, that was known for its high profile guests and free flowing party favors. Max didn't even want to think about the kind of debauchery Michael might be getting into in Dean's body.

They weren't in LA more than a week, when they decided to put their plan into motion. Max had gone over and over it with Jack. All he had to do was take care of Michael, keep him occupied, and when the time came, kill him. Max would take care of the rest, including making sure Dean was ok.

Jack was worried about being able to wield his abilities once Max gave him her grace. Max assured him that the knowledge she would transfer would make him an expert. Was it the truth? It was the truth she was telling herself. It was what they needed to be true.

"So, how do we do this?" Jack asked. "Do I really have to cut you?"

Max loved this kid. She still couldn't believe Lucifer was his father. Although, knowing that Sam and Cas had raised him, with Dean pitching in after a while, it was easy to see why he had turned out so well so far. Even after Lucifer turned on him, Jack was trying to make the most of everything and help in any way he could.

"I'll do the cutting," she told him.

She produced an archangel blade from one of the bags she had brought. She made a small cut on her neck to let the grace out. Jack was hesitant at first at taking it, but after a small taste, he gladly took the rest.

"I'd almost forgot what this felt like," he smiled.

Max felt a slight power drain, but she knew her magic was strong. She only hoped that it was her magic she'd been using all these centuries. She had kept a trace amount of grace so Michael would be able to sense it in her.

"Be careful," she instructed him. "Since it's not your grace, it has limits. Every time you use it, it lessens."

"Don't worry," Jack assured her. "I'm saving everything I got for Michael."

"Now for the rest of it." She said a silent prayer that this would work.

She lightly grabbed Jack's face and pulled it close. Then she placed a small, chaste kiss on his lips. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open in shock. Then he fell to his knees, the knowledge over whelming him a little.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I should have warned you it can have quite a punch."

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her. "I…I can do it all?" he questioned.

She nodded. "But remember, your power is limited."

He stood up, his face still holding an expression of wonder. "Michael isn't going to stand a chance."

Max really wondered about their chances as she walked into Lux wearing a dress she would have never even considered before. Low cut. Short skirt. Cut-outs on the side. She felt practically naked. The only thing she liked about it was the shiny silver material. There was just something about the way it caught the lights.

Jack was worried about this part of the plan. Max had told him Michael had hurt her. She hadn't gone in to a lot of details, but he could tell it had been really bad. But Max assured him—and herself—she could do it.

Max scanned the room, looking for Michael. She didn't spot him, but she knew right when he spotted her. The hair on the back of neck stood up. She turned in the direction she could sense him. And she lost her breath for a moment.

Not Dean had his hair slicked back, the perfect five o'clock shadow gracing his jaw line. He was wearing a black with white pin stripes suit. His shirt perfectly matching the color of his pocket square. If it hadn't been Michael, Max would have been impressed. Dean cleaned up well.

She watched Michael cut through the crowd, greeting some of the women who approached him as he passed. His eyes never left her, though. She waited until he was within arms reach and vanished, making sure she left enough of a trace for him to follow.

And so the plan was set in to motion.


	12. Shout at the Devil

Max appeared a few blocks from the warehouse. She wanted to make Michael chase her. Max and Jack both knew that Michael would figure it was a trap. Max was betting on Michael thinking she was working with Sam, not Jack, and especially not a charged Jack.

Max set off a small flash of fire, her signal to Jack that they were on their way. Then she hurried down the street. She knew Michael wasn't far behind. She didn't want him in a rush. She wanted him to be over-confident.

Normally she enjoyed the sound of her heels clicking on a hard surface, but in that moment, they were the sound of her life's clock ticking away. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She had faced many dangers, armies, plagues, but this, this actually terrified her. Maybe it was because she knew she wasn't getting out of this alive.

She thought how crazy it was that death scared her. How many times had she wanted to die? Had she tried to die? But now, she wanted to live. She knew Dean had to be the baby she saw. He was her purpose. She didn't want it to end like this. But maybe this was the way it was supposed to go.

"I know what you're doing," he taunted her from behind, interrupting her thoughts. "But you can't trap me. There's nothing that can hold me. And nothing that can remove me from my vessel."

She didn't respond. She knew it would irk him and his ego. That and she wasn't sure she could sound confident. Actually having him at her back was threatening her ability to ignore the rape. But she couldn't let that stop her. _Dean's in there somewhere._

"It's sweet of you," Michael continued to taunt her. "That you want to save this vessel, especially after our previous engagement."

Her face burned red. She wanted to kill him right here and now, but knew she didn't have the ability. _Only a few more yards,_ she reminded herself.

She quickened her step, and then ducked in to the warehouse entrance. There were no lights, but none involved needed any. She threw off her heels and quickly pulled on a pair of shorts. She also slid on the back sheath with her sword in it. She waited in the darkness for Michael to enter.

Michael decided to humor his would-be captors and walked in the door. "You know I killed your father," he said loudly as he entered. "Gabriel hardly put up a fight."

Max flew out of the darkness, low, aiming at his waist with her shoulder. When she was within inches of making contact, Michael grabbed her around the abdomen, picked her up off the ground and flung her across the room. She hit the far wall with a loud thud.

"Like father, like daughter," he chided coldly. "I'm disappointed. I was hoping you'd do better."

Max appeared out of the darkness behind Michael and hit him square in the back with a large staff. He stumbled forward a little, but quickly regained his balance, turning to face her.

"You won't be disappointed," she told him through gritted teeth. She charged at him with the staff.

He easily grabbed the end jabbed at him and laughed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she flashed a wicked grin, ramming her staff at him, sending a bolt of power down it.

The bolt hit Michael before he could block it and sent him flying backwards. Michael landed in the middle of the next room, which was right where she wanted him. As soon as he got to his feet, bright lights flooded the room.

Michael sneered as he looked around the room at all the sigils painted on the walls. He was again disappointed that Max thought any of this would work on him. And where were the human and weakling that passed for an angel? He was really looking forward to a challenging fight. Well, at least something harder than this. Three on one would have been a bit more entertaining.

Max walked in the room, sliding shut the door behind her. She used her already-bleeding hand to finish a sigil and a rune on the door, completing a cage that would hold Michael…at least for a few minutes.

"Not bad," Michael admitted, as the runes and cage become visible. "That is some old magic."

Max did a little, sarcastic curtsy.

"But, that means no one can come to your aid either." He took a few steps towards her. "We both know you can't cast me out," he paused then slyly grinned. "And we both know you can't kill a Winchester."

Max's eyes went wide wondering how he had found out. She herself had only recently been made aware of that knowledge. But before she had a chance to ask, Jack appeared with the archangel blade she had taken from the bunker.

"But I can!" Jack charged towards Michael.

"You're sure this is the right way?" Sam asked Castiel for the umpteenth time as the drove around Los Angeles.

"Yes, I'm sure," the angel replied. "Before it was quiet, extremely hard to pick up on. Now it's screaming, like someone cranked it to 11."

Sam and Cas had been searching for Max and Jack since the day they went missing from the bunker. It wasn't until a couple days ago that Jack was finally spotted in L.A. by another hunter. They jumped in the Impala and headed out that day. But Los Angeles is a gigantic city and it had been difficult to pinpoint their location.

Both were mad, but for different reasons. Sam couldn't believe that Max would try and face Michael with out him. Dean was _his_ brother. And the last time she faced Michael, it hadn't gone so well. He wanted to help. He _needed_ to help. And he needed to know she didn't hate him.

Cas was mad because Jack had left without him. To say Cas had been overprotective since everything had gone down with Lucifer and Michael would be a vast understatement. After all he'd done to protect Jack, how could Jack just leave like that? Especially with a stranger. Especially to save Dean.

"There!" Cas pointed to a street on the left. "Turn there!"

Sam quickly turned the wheel so as to not miss the street. Once on the street, even Sam could tell where the fight was. There was an energy radiating from a warehouse down a couple blocks. Sam didn't know what was going on, but Max was using a whole lot of something to get it done.

"Odd," Cas said. "I can feel Jack and he's powerful."

"Where would they find some grace?" Sam asked. "Aside from you, there aren't any angels on earth."

"Maxima," Cas replied. "She gave Jack her grace."

"But why?" Sam questioned. "She can't kill Michael without it."

Cas furrowed his brow. "Jack is stronger. She knows that." He paused for a moment. "Maxima is an accomplished warrior. She knows the chances of defeating Michael are best when there are two of them."

"Well, now there are four of us."


	13. But I Won't Do That

Jack charged at Michael, the archangel blade in front of him. Michael's eyes danced with delight upon seeing Jack. He wasn't concerned about the boy at all. He drew his own blade and easily swatted away Jack.

"This is your back-up? A baby?" Michael let out a small chuckle.

"A baby that killed lots of your men," Jack retorted, coming back with an overhand swing that Michael blocked.

Michael struck at Jack a few times in quick succession, driving him back. Michael was a little surprised when Jack blocked all of them. Jack advanced as Michael swung towards Jack's midsection. Jack ducked, still in motion, scrapped his blade against the floor. The sparks from the friction caused the circle of Holy Fire to be ignited.

Michael shook his head at the lame attempt to keep him trapped. "Your Holy Fire can't hold me," he told them as he made his way to cross the fire to prove his point. Only he couldn't cross it. "What in the—"

It was Max's turn to smirk. "It's my own special blend of holy oils and other things. It was designed specifically for an archangel…and your vessel."

Michael's face turned to rage and he let out a scream of anger. He was not going to be beaten by these half-breed angels and their parlor tricks. He went full speed at Jack, swinging to cut his head off.

Jack gracefully turned and dodged the blow, striking Michael in the knee in the process. Michael took a step away and then fell as his knee gave out from the severed tendon. Michael was about to use his wings to get up, when Jack slashed him across the back. The flesh of his vessel tore down to the muscle, causing immense pain.

Michael fell forward then quickly realized he was defenseless in this position. He rolled over to his back despite the pain to find Jack's blade at his chest. Jack drove it in a little to make a point.

"Leave Dean or die," Jack leveled his ultimatum.

Michael guffawed. "You won't kill Dean."

Jack pressed the point in a little farther. "Try me."

It was at the moment that Sam busted down the door, breaking the cage. Max said a silent prayer of thanks that she had done the Holy Fire as well as the cage. As soon as the cage was cleared, Cas entered as well, angel blade drawn.

"Jack! Stop!" Sam and Cas seemed to yell in unison.

The boy looked up, a little shocked to see his friend and the man he called father. His face showed conflict from their command.

"You have to do it," Max told him. "Michael leaves or he dies."

"If he kills Michael, Dean dies too!" Cas yelled.

"Michael has to die!" Max shouted back.

Jack turned back to Max at her words. He searched her face for approval. She nodded. His job was to kill Michael; hers was to make sure Dean lived. Jack trusted she would keep her word.

Sam saw Max's nod. He saw Jack's stance tighten, become determined, and he knew what was about to happen. He also knew the Holy Fire made Cas unable to stop it. Sam took off towards Jack to stop him, running right through the flames. But he wasn't fast enough. Jack plunged the blade into Michael's heart.

"NO!" screamed Cas, unfurling his wings, causing a gust to blow out the flames.

Sam made it to Jack and Michael just as the last flicker of light dimmed in Dean's eyes. Sam started to weep, holding his dead brother in his arms. Cas was soon at his side, trying to assess the situation and not murder Max…not yet at least.

"Can't you heal him?" Sam pleaded. Cas solemnly shook his head 'no'.

Cas took Jack roughly by the arms. "Why? Why did you do this?"

Before Jack could say a word, a loud clang sounded, drawing the men's attention. They turned just in time to see Max's sword shattering into countless shards as if it were made of glass.

Max grabbed the nail and dragged it from her wrist to near her elbow, opening the vein, as she walked towards Dean. Sam and Jack were horrified at her actions, but Cas could feel the power emanating from the nail and understood what was about to happen. The angel grabbed his son and Sam and pulled them away from Dean's still form.

"Cas, what—?" Sam started to fight against him, but Cas gave him a look that said everything Sam needed to know.

When Max reached Dean's body, she knelt down next to it. She opened up Dean's shirt to bare his chest. Covering the tip of the nail in blood, she began to draw symbols on his skin, dipping the nail as needed. When she had drawn several symbols on his chest, she looked up at Cas.

"I'm sorry I won't be able to help you save your Michael," she told him through the tears that were starting to fall. She hadn't kept either of her promises.

Cas nodded his head in response. Michael could heal himself eventually. She needed to save Dean. He was all that mattered.

Again, covering the tip in her blood, she drew matching symbols on her chest and an extra one on her forehead. She expected something spectacular to happen—glowing lights, the building shaking, lightning, anything—but there was nothing like that. She thought maybe she had done it wrong. Maybe she didn't have enough faith. Maybe she just wasn't worthy after all she'd done.

Then, quietly, his chest started to rise and fall in exact rhythm with hers. The corner of her mouth did an uptick when she noticed it. His eyes started to flutter open as hers started to droop with heaviness.

Dean's eyes finally opened, blinking in unbelief. He slowly sat up, his face now level with hers.

"Max," he gently said, noticing her eyes were shut.

She opened them and saw his face. His beautiful eyes looking back at her. She smiled. "It worked."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her body slumped over. The hand that was still grasping the nail opened and it clanked against the floor. Dean caught Max before her head hit the ground.

"Max? Max!" Dean's concern grew wild after seeing all the blood. He gently laid her on the floor and started to remove his shirt to tourniquet her arm.

Cas came over and stopped him. "She's dead," he told his best friend with no emotion. He didn't care that she was dead. He only cared that Dean was alive.

Sam came over and picked up the nail. "The Crucifixion nail?" he asked Cas, remembering the story Rowena had told him.

Cas nodded.

"But why did it kill her?" Sam was confused. Upset. Torn up. Rejoicing and grief-stricken at the same time.

"It's the nature of its power. It became a Hand of God through blood and self-sacrifice," Cas stated.

Dean's eyes shone with tears. He was sick of people sacrificing themselves for him. His dad, Sam, Cas, and all the countless others. He wasn't worth it. He cradled her head in his lap. "Why?" he whispered to her corpse. "Why save me?"

Dean sat there, rocking her lifeless body, trying not to cry. After all he'd done—or not done—for her, she still gave her life for him. _Fuck it,_ he thought and let the tears flow.

Sam put his hand on one of Dean's shoulders and Cas put his hand on the other. Jack was still a few steps away trying to figure out his own grief. The only sound to be heard was Dean's sobbing.

"Dean, put her down," Cas said with some concern.

"Leave me alone," Dean shrugged off Cas's hand and his concern.

"No, Dean," he repeated with urgency, "Put her down."

This caused both Dean and Sam to look at her corpse, which they had been avoiding. It had started to glow yellow, then red. Then it started to smoke.

Dean set her head back down and stood for the first time since being brought back. It was an odd feeling, mainly because he felt fine. He wasn't sore. His back didn't hurt. He felt almost brand new. He and Sam both took a step back.

The smoke turned to flame and then the flame consumed her whole corpse. It lasted only a minute, not even long enough to try and find an extinguisher, but it was hot and bright. When it had burned itself out there was nothing left but ash.

The four men stood there for a moment, pondering the pile of ash. For someone who hadn't been in their lives long, she had made a huge impact.

"We need to go," Cas was the first to speak. "We don't know what that might have attracted."

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Cas is right. I don't think any of us are up for a fight at the moment."

Dean nodded, his face grim. "Keys?"

"Dean, you just—" Sam started to protest.

Dean gave him a look saying he wasn't going to give. "Keys."

Sam reluctantly handed the keys to Dean and they left as Dean vowed to himself, to all of creation, that he was going to be different, better. Just because he'd saved the world (more than once), it didn't mean he had free reign to be an ass.


	14. Even Flow (Epilogue)

_Max is gone¸_ Dean thought as he lay in his bed, one hand behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The other was unconsciously running up and down his smooth chest, still unsure how whatever Max did erased every scar. It had been a week since she'd given her life for his and he still didn't totally understand why. She was a witch, a Nephilim, had an extremely long life. She could do so much good. If, and it was a big if, he were lucky, he might have another 20 years. The human body could only take so much.

His breath would catch every once in a while as he remembered the horrible things Michael did. Dean had killed—a lot. That's not what bothered him. It was all the innocent people Michael had killed, not monsters, just his general disregard for humans. And it was getting harder—not easier—every time he remembered what Michael had done to Max.

Dean took a deep breath, tried to steady his heartbeat. He had Cas, Sam, his mom, Jack was back to full strength, and even Apocalypse World Charlie and Bobby were staying for now. He knew he should be thankful for what he had—and he was—but he didn't feel like he deserved any of it. Was there ever really enough good to out weigh all the bad?

A knock on his door drew him out of his self-loathing. He quickly wiped away the moisture from his eyes and went to open the door.

"Hey, Cas," Dean tried to sound as upbeat as possible. It was a bit odd to see the old Cas, Jimmy Novak Cas, after seeing the angel's true form when possessed by Michael. Dean couldn't even describe it; it was so beautiful. Just another reminder of all that was lost.

Cas looked concerned. "You ok Dean?"

Dean flashed a fake smile. "Nothing like an ol' angel possession to do a body good."

Cas paused for a moment, pondering Dean's sarcasm. The angel had gotten much better at detecting it, but sometimes it was still lost on him.

Dean wasn't in the mood for idle chitchat. "Did you want something?" Dean tried to get to the point.

Cas let out a nervous breath, a habit he'd picked up from when he was human. "Yes," was his only reply.

Dean stood there for a moment, waiting on his friend to say something else, but he was silent. "Well, what do you want?" Dean was getting a bit frustrated.

Cas had been one of God's fiercest angel warriors, faced untold dangers and monsters without batting an eyelash, but when it came to humans, particularly this human, he still had fears. Fears because he _needed_ Dean in his life.

In an uncharacteristic move, Castiel stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean. Dean stiffened for a moment at the unexpected touch, then wrapped his arms around Cas as well and started to cry into Cas's shoulder.

Cas was a little stunned, not quite expecting this reaction from Dean. He wanted to say it was ok, but he knew it wasn't. He wanted to say everything was going to be fine, but knew that was probably a lie. He wanted to tell Dean something, anything that would make him feel better, but knew there wasn't any comfort to be found in words.

Instead, Cas moved them one step farther into Dean's room and shut the door behind them. Then he stood there, holding his friend, letting him cry. And he would stay that way for as long as Dean needed.

#####

Her eyes opened and quickly blinked against the light. It wasn't so much that it was bright but the lack of any frame of reference that was messing with her sight. It was empty all around except for her.

"Ahem," a throat was cleared behind her.

She quickly turned to find a man standing where just a breath ago was nothing. He was tall and average looking, with curly hair and beard. She immediately recognized who he was.

"G—Chuck!" She greeted him by his preferred nomenclature "What…where am I? Shouldn't I be in hell?"

Chuck smiled uncomfortably. "He needs you."

Max was confused. "I don't—"

Chuck snapped his fingers and Max was gone.

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 **A/N: Hope you liked it. Had to add the Destiel at the end. All the memes are getting to me! Let me know if you have any thoughts. And I do take requests….**


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